


you were always gold to me

by janie_tangerine



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Character Swap, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, M/M, What-If, also the tags should have robb and jon's surnames swapped, hopefully this makes some sort of sense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-15
Updated: 2013-05-15
Packaged: 2017-12-11 23:45:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/804627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/pseuds/janie_tangerine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>where Robb is born Snow instead of Stark and it doesn't change things for the worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I originally got the idea for this ages ago while I was browsing the kink meme in a moment of 'I need to find something to write that isn't one of the wips I can't apparently finish' and there was a prompt for Robb/Theon where Robb is the bastard and Jon is the heir and they live happily ever after on the Iron Islands eventually - I had started it, then I left it because I had no time and now I figured I could just go and finish it just in time for [Theon appreciation week](http://rhymeswithloveweek.tumblr.com/) on tumblr. I'll eventually manage to track down the original prompt.. anyway, this never happened - obviously, everyone should have guessed the song I stole the title from and nothing belongs to me except for the plot.
> 
> (PS: I'm going to probably spam with a lot of Theon centered stuff in the next few days because of said appreciation week - bear with me. ;) )

“Don’t you ever envy him?” Theon asks, unable to keep the question to himself. It’s something he’s been asking himself for years by now.

“Who?” Robb asks, pretending he doesn’t know what Theon is talking about. Theon sighs and nods towards Jon, who’s teaching Bran some sword moves in the yard. Robb looks down at them, a small smile curling up his lips, and then shakes his head before looking back up at him again. “No, Greyjoy, I _don’t_ envy him. Never did, never will.”

“But _why_? It could have been you.” While Theon isn’t exactly an authority in the history of major houses in Westeros, he _had_ asked about the Starks during his trip from Pyke. And he knows that Robb Snow could have easily been Robb Stark (and Jon Stark could have been Jon Snow), if only he had been a bit luckier. Everyone knows how it went, even if no one actually ever speaks out loud about it. Brandon Stark had been betrothed to Catelyn Tully and should have married her after retrieving his sister from King’s Landing, except that the bedding happened before the marriage. Fine, the Stark heir probably did not know that he would never come back from the Mad King’s court, but still, not his smartest move, in retrospective.

Meanwhile, his younger brother Eddard had married Ashara Dayne, and she had given him a son just after Brandon’s death and before Ned had to leave joining the rebellion. Sadly, she had died during the birth. Catelyn Tully hadn’t, and Lord Stark had promised to marry her after the war, also to honor his brother’s promise (and probably to make up for his mistake). As things were, when Jon Stark was born his father was Lord of Winterfell, and when his cousin Robb was born, it was to an unwed woman. Who would have been wed two months later, but even if she had remarried before her pregnancy was over, everyone would have known that her son was not Lord Stark’s. But if only Lady Stark had married the _other_ Lord Stark before he left for King’s Landing, Robb’s surname wouldn’t have been Snow. And Theon can’t really understand why, in the almost ten years he’s known Robb, the latter has never once wished that he was in Jon’s place.

“I know. But it wasn’t me,” Robb says calmly. “What’s the use in despairing over something I cannot change? I’ve been raised alongside my cousins, my education is as good as Jon’s, and I know he’ll be a good lord when he takes his rightful place. But it looks like such a burden – why should I want it? I’d rather be a hedge knight.”

Theon snorts, not surprised at the answer at all. It’s – it’s such a _Robb_ thing to say, and he says this because in his entire life Robb has never seemed prey of any supposedly petty emotion. He’s never seen him envy his cousins, or do something out of spite. Whoever said that bastards are vicious creatures probably never met Robb Snow.

“Not to mention that if Jon was in my place he’d be miserable. Come on, you know him. He’d spend half of his time being sad about it.” Robb doesn’t say it with malice, though. He says it like it’s a simple fact.

“While you aren’t.” Theon doesn’t put it as a question – he knows that Robb is perfectly fine with his surname.

“That’s the way it went. I had a better life than most people named Snow get. Why should I even be sad about it?”

He asks it as if he doesn’t even consider the option, and Theon doesn’t press the issue.

Robb does have a point. And Theon should probably just stop making a problem out of it, especially when Robb does not do the same when _he_ is the one named Snow.

\--

Theon hadn’t certainly imagined, when Ned Stark took him to Winterfell, that he’d end up befriending Robb Snow out of everyone in the castle. Though, to be entirely truthful, he hadn’t expected to befriend anyone in the first place. Jon Stark had been every inch the little lord, polite and nice and everything you could ask of the heir of one of the great houses in Westeros, but that was it. Same went for his sister Sansa (when she grew older than two, obviously), and same went for all the rest of the Stark children in the following years. Surely they had been told not to get attached – even if Ned Stark insists on saying he’s a ward, everyone knew that his head would roll the moment his father misbehaved. Not to mention that Jon was six – he probably didn’t even care about what Theon would have wanted to do back then.

Anyway, he had been at least slightly wrong when he had thought that the best he would find at Winterfell would be cold courtesy.

Because whatever Jon Stark had been told, no one had taken care to tell Robb Snow. Or better, someone probably had and Robb had pointedly decided to ignore it and do things the way he wanted, and it’s not like anyone stopped him – Theon figures that maybe it just didn’t matter if the resident bastard decided to make friends with the resident hostage. That’s exactly the way it went, no lying. Theon did feel slightly put off when all of a sudden, after introducing himself a lot less politely than Jon, Robb had pretty much taken to staying attached at his hip whenever he could. Even if Theon ignored him. Mostly, for a while he heard his father’s voice in his head telling him that associating with his family’s enemies was bad already, but doing it with one who didn’t even have the right surname would have been even worse. 

But Robb, Theon learned, was nothing if not persistent (he still is), and after one month, when Theon had run into him practicing holding a bow and doing it all wrong, he had offered to help with it. And it had felt nice, like teaching it to some younger brother he’d have never had on Pyke, and Robb looked thrilled to have his undivided attention, and no one actually bothered them. After all, it wasn’t the little lord socializing with him.

By the end of that particular session, Theon had come to the conclusion that Robb Snow was indeed a five-year-old brat, but not the annoying kind of, and for some kind of reason Robb Snow was set on being friends, and Robb Snow thought that being around someone four years older than him was pretty swell rather than boring. And Theon was pretty sure that he never looked at his own older (now deceased) brothers the way Robb had looked at him in that one hour. At that point Theon stopped listening to the part of him who sounded like his father, because fine, it might be pathetic that the only person who wanted to spend time with him was a five-year-old kid without a father and without a real surname, but it was still better than no one.

That evening, Robb had put his plate firmly next to his – not that either of them ate at the front of the table anyway – and Theon had decided that maybe it wasn’t so bad to have the kid attached to his hip. He also had been secretly afraid that he’d grow bored after a short while – five year-olds aren’t known for their large attention span.

Except that it never happened. Robb was the one showing him around Winterfell and the godswood (one month and some after he arrived, because no one else bothered to do it first), Robb was the one asking him what it was like on the Iron Islands (and gods, Theon could have wept at the idea that someone wanted to know a bit about where he came from), Robb was the one he mostly ended up sparring with even when Jon trained with them. Robb was the one he always spent time with during feasts or visits from other lords. Theon had come to terms with having thought wrong when a couple of years later there had been some raven from the Iron Islands which eventually had ended up being about something trivial, but the moment Theon heard the words he had thought that maybe his father had in fact rebelled again. For the rest of the day he had felt shaken and upset and had snapped at anyone talking to him, and then at night he couldn’t sleep while a storm raged outside. And at that point Robb had come in through his door and insisted to share the bed, and Theon had guessed on the spot that Robb was pretending to be scared – he never gave a shit about thunderstorms one way or the other. Theon hadn’t sent him away though, and at that point, as Robb clung to his shoulder, he had just known that Robb Snow wasn’t going to get bored of his company anytime soon.

In good time, he had learned to ignore whatever objections his not-so-helpful conscience provided him with – fine, maybe Robb’s presence made it easy to forget, at times, that he never was a ward and never would be, but the alternative would have been sulking on his own while everyone else was polite at best. And while Lady Stark hadn’t seemed to approve that much about her son being friends with him, she never outright said anything. Or if she did, Robb never told him or cared much for it – then again, he doesn’t have the obligations he’d have if his name was Stark.

Surely she’d have complained if she knew what had gone down during Theon’s fourteenth name day. No one knows about it except for the two of them, not that anyone ever cares much about what they do when they’re off together.

Nothing of import had happened until that day’s afternoon. He had received the usual polite but distant well-wishes from everyone in the castle named Stark, he had spent the morning practicing with his bow, and then during the afternoon some bannermen had come to confer with Lord Stark about something he doesn’t even remember. Anyway, he had passed by the hall just in time to hear someone boasting about the men he killed in a six-against-one standout when they assaulted Pyke during the rebellion, and – fine. He had not needed to hear it. Not that he hadn’t known already that his people aren’t exactly the North’s favorites – he’s always known that the rest of the world thinks that they’re savages, as if he hasn’t heard it enough. But at the moment it had made him mad, and not just because people were laughing about the worst thing that ever happened to him, and so he had ran for his room and slammed the door a bit more forcefully than proper.

And Robb had opened it a minute later.

“What in the seven hells do you want?” Theon had asked, not feeling up for being nice.

“I’m sorry,” Robb had answers walking inside – without permission, obviously.

“You’re what?”

“I was in the hall. And I saw you out of the door. No one was paying attention to me anyway, so it wasn’t hard to get out.”

“You don’t have to feel bloody sorry for me, Robb. Just go.”

“I don’t feel sorry for you. I’m sorry that they said those things. It’s not the same thing.”

“Oh, it’s not?”

No nine-year-old had the rights to look that unimpressed. “No, it’s _not_.” Then he proceeded to sit on the bed, as well.

Well, obviously he wasn’t leaving anytime soon, was he?

“Robb, leave it. It’s fine. No one is ever going to forget where I come from, no one is ever going to like it, I get it. Don’t feel sorry. It’s not like I can change it.”

“But they shouldn’t judge you based on that. It’s just stupid.”

“Right, because you’re such an authority.” Except that it hadn’t sounded as sarcastic as it should have. It had been the truth, actually. Robb was the authority, on that matter, since no one else actually bothered to spend time with him because they felt like it. In fact, he wasn’t the authority just in Winterfell.

Robb had looked half-hurt at that, though, and Theon had legitimately felt like terrible. Nice, he thought, be horrible to the one person who actually tries to see your point.

“I’m sorry,” he said before Robb could speak. “I didn’t mean it.”

“All right. But then what’s wrong with you?”

Damn nine year old logic. And damn stubborn northern bastards named Snow.

He had taken a breath and figured that he could as well say it. “You’d think that they would write at times.”

“Who?”

“My family on Pyke, who else. Or what’s left of it anyway.”

“They _haven’t_?” Robb had sounded fairly outraged. Theon had shrugged.

“If they have, no one ever gave me the ravens. And it’s been five name days at this point. I just –”

“Master Luwin wouldn’t have kept them from you.”

“Maybe they thought it was better if –”

“We should go ask him.”

“Robb, you _don’t_ –”

“I _do_.”

It had ended up with Robb pretty much dragging him to see Master Luwin and asking the question for him while Theon wished he could just hide somewhere until the entire thing was over, and Master Luwin quietly (and a bit sadly) told them that no, he would have never kept that kind of letter from Theon, and no, he never received any letter from the Iron Islands that wasn’t addressed to Lord Stark directly. That did not do anything to improve Theon’s mood. He had hurried back to his room, but Robb wasn’t going to let it go.

“I’m –”

“Robb, stop saying it. I’m fine.”

“No you’re not. And maybe your father writes to my uncle, but he should also write to you.”

“That’s not how it works over there,” Theon had said tiredly.

“Then it’s stupid.”

Theon had laughed at that – yeah, well, nothing to argue. Not according to Robb’s logic anyway, and there had been no point in explaining him that men almost grown should not wish to know how their mother is faring. For one.

“You miss them.” Not a question. Theon had shrugged, wishing that Robb would just forget about it.

Truthfully, the only person he really missed was his mother. He couldn’t miss his brothers that much, since he wasn’t close with either of them. He couldn’t miss his sister, with whom he never had much of a relationship in the first place. His father was an entirely different problem, but he had barely paid attention to him back then – what was there to miss? He has shaken his head. “Leave it. I don’t know. I don’t miss most of them as much as I should, but it’s not like anyone other than you is here to hear me out, is it?”

Robb had looked at him as if he was debating some kind of decision, but at least he hadn’t said that he was _sorry_. Fuck, if his father could have seen them then – yeah, not thinking about it.

“I can be your brother, if you want,” he had finally said after a couple of minutes of silence.

Theon hadn’t really expected that.

“Sorry?”

Robb had given him a half-smile. “Why not? You don’t have yours anymore.”

“And you have three.”

“Yes, and Jon is closer with all of them than I am. And Jon is like my brother, but you know it’s not the same thing.”

“Don’t lie, Sansa likes you better than the others and everyone knows it.”

“And her septa keeps on telling her that she shouldn’t. I’m not saying that I _don’t_ have them. But I know it’s not the same.”

It hadn’t exactly clarified much, but Theon had thought he understood, more or less. After all, Robb’s mere presence around was a reminder that his father (who should have been lord) wasn’t as honorable as his uncle, and there’s no way to undo it. Hells, if Eddard Stark had been a lesser man he could have refused to marry his brother’s betrothed after all, and then things would have been extremely different. Same mother or not, it probably didn’t change the heart of the matter. And then Theon had realized that Robb did have a point – absurd as it was, they probably had more in common than Robb had with any of his siblings. Not to mention that with Jon’s exception Robb is older than the rest, and Jon is only older by not even a full year– and Theon had noticed that Robb always seemed a lot closer to Jon, and that they still weren’t as close as they could be, given that they were the same age and grew up in the same place.

“Fine,” he finally had said. “Why not? After all it’s not like we’ve been doing something different until now.” And Robb had beamed at that, and Theon had grabbed his shoulder and put an arm around it, thinking that maybe it wasn’t such a wretched day after all.

“Now and always?” Robb had asked.

“Now and always,” he had replied, not even letting himself think that this kind of promise is the kind that people usually forget when they grow older.

But Robb hadn’t forgotten it. He listened to Theon when he said that he’d take his father’s place at some point, he was the only person who didn’t get tired of Theon’s tales about Winterfell’s brothel (to the point that eventually Theon did bring him along a couple of times – and wasn’t he thankful that Robb was not the heir), and Theon had heard everything about Robb’s plans about the hedge knight thing and seeing the rest of the world, and definitely _not_ going to the Wall. (Very honorable, but not what he wanted.) They trained together and did most things together and no one ever cared much or thought a stop should be put to it.

\--

That’s how they’re here, now, Robb almost fifteen, him nineteen, and he’s still a hostage and he never received a raven from home either, but as he looks down at the scene in the yard he thinks, _it would have been nice to be one of them_. Not meant to be, he guesses, but that’s fine – Robb’s not going to think less of him for it, at least.

“Why do you even still ask anyway?” Robb asks a moment later. “I mean, it’s not like I hadn’t made that clear.”

“Nothing,” Theon replies. “And no, you hadn’t made that clear.”

“Idiot. You should just listen to others once in a while.”

“Since when I don’t listen to you?”

“Since never. Oh, and did you hear that the king is coming for a visit?” Robb smirks.

“Snow, everyone in Winterfell has heard it. How does this change things for either of us?”

“I suppose that for you it doesn’t,” Robb replies. “But do you think that I shall spend the evening in the dining hall with everyone else?”

For a moment, Theon feels slightly sorry for him. He never sits at the main table in those occasions, but at least he does have a place in the hall.

And then Robb laughs in his face. “Greyjoy, stop that right now. I didn’t say it because I want you to feel sorry for me. I don’t care for it and you know. I was merely wondering if you might want to keep me company at some point.” Robb is outright grinning now, a glint in his eyes, and Theon forgets that he just made a sort of poor figure.

He perfectly knows what Robb means.

“Why, I shall be happy to. Just let me know where.”

“Don’t you worry. I will. And – oh, for the gods’ sake, Jon, that’s not how you teach someone to hold a bow!” He shouts as he looks at his cousin and at his half-sister before running towards the stairs. Theon stays where he is, not bothering to hide his grin. After all, it’s not like Robb is the best archer out of Catelyn Stark’s children because he was naturally gifted for it. More because he was the only one who took lessons from _him_.

\--

Before dinner, Robb whispers _first keep, an hour from now_ , and Theon spends the following hour wishing it would just _pass_ and that the fucking dinner would be served all at once. If Robb isn’t around, and if he isn’t sitting at the main table, there’s pretty much nothing to do for him except wink at the kitchen maids. Just wink though, no use in trying to get under their skirts.

He’s almost relieved when the last dish is served. He eats quickly and since no one is paying attention, he slips from the hall and heads for the First Keep – he doesn’t know why Robb is so obsessed with that place but then again it’s empty and no one is going to pass through a servants’ graveyard at this time in the night with a feast going on. He’s kind of relieved when he sees Grey Wind, Robb’s direwolf, hovering outside the entrance to the keep.

(He had been with Ned Stark, Robb, Jon and Bran when they found a litter of fucking _direwolves_ a short while ago. There were five of them, one of which completely white with freaky red eyes, and Ned Stark didn’t know what to do with them. Bran was obviously morally against killing something that cute. Jon seemed torn. In the end Robb had said that it was obvious – five direwolves, five Stark children, obviously they should take them, and they had. Until they found a sixth one that had wandered away. Theon had joked about _that_ one wanting to be a hedge knight too, obviously, and Robb had shrugged and said that he’d take it since it was obviously not stupid.)

He walks inside, wishing that the floor wouldn’t creak.

“Took you long enough,” comes from his left, and then a hand grabs him and Theon is pulled into a small room without windows. There’s a torch burning on the wall though, and Robb is right in front of him.

“Excuse me _your Grace_ , I couldn’t leave before they served all the darned dishes.”

“ _Your Grace_ my ass,” Robb mutters, and then his hands are on Theon’s shoulder and his mouth presses against Theon’s and Theon smiles at it, wrapping one arm around Robb’s waist and moving the other upwards so that his hand is behind Robb’s neck.

(So, Catelyn Stark would probably not appreciate it if she knew that they’ve been doing this for a while. Actually, since after two trips to the brothel Robb had still not, apparently, been with a woman. That was when Theon had inquired into the reason. Robb had answered that both times it had done nothing for him and he had called it quits before the fun really began, and Theon had asked how it could do nothing for him.

“How is that even possible?” Theon had asked.

“Maybe I just don’t care for someone I’ve never seen before.”

“Really? And is there someone –”

Theon never finished that sentence, because Robb had been kissing him stupid against the brothel’s wall first.

Anyone with a lick of sense would have stopped it right then.)

As things are, maybe Theon doesn’t have a lick of sense. Because he didn’t stop Robb after the brothel, and he never stopped him after, and he isn’t stopping Robb right now either as Robb’s tongue runs against his lips and as Robb presses all of his frame against his own. And he isn’t sure he’s ever going to put a stop to it if he can help it.

So he presses Robb against the wall, kisses him deeper, shivering when Robb moans into his mouth and hooks one of his legs against his knee. It’s been maybe some four months, but he’s had time to learn that Robb likes to be kissed on his neck and behind his ear, and Robb has apparently learned that Theon will moan out if he kisses the inside of his wrist or bites down on his shoulder – even if right now Theon is trying to keep as quiet as he can. The last thing he needs is drawing attention when half of the royal court is in the main hall.

“You’re insane,” Theon mouths against Robb’s lips when they part, his hands going to Robb’s laces and contradicting his words. “If someone runs into us now –”

“No one is going to run into us. With the noise – with the noise they’re making? No one could hear us even if they passed by. And tell me you stole some oil from that feast, it’s been too fucking long. That said, Grey Wind’s on the other side of the keep – he will make enough noise to distract anyone passing.”

“It’s been only four days. Learn some patience.” Theon replies as he shoves Robb’s breeches downwards and as Robb shrugs out of them. And then he takes out of his pocket a small vial of oil that no one had been interested in using at his table. Robb’s eyes are glinting blue in the torch’s light and Theon slams him against the wall again, his lips moving against Robb’s.

“ _Patience_ ,” Robb snorts. Theon doesn’t even try to counter-answer that. After all, when he was fifteen, he could have done this all day too. He opens the vial and coats his fingers in half of it.

“Fine, fine. You know what, if you can’t even wait to lie down, just –”

Before he can finish, Robb has both legs wrapped around his back as Theon keeps him up against the wall – damn, he’s not really much smaller than he is but he’s still a lot less heavy and all that swordfighting he practices gave him good arms. He pushes one finger inside Robb – it goes in smoothly enough, coated in oil as it is, as Robb mutters yes under his breath. He adds another quickly – they’ve done this enough times that this part comes almost easy, and Robb doesn’t look like he wants to do this any slower. Not from the way he’s meeting his fingers’ thrusting, at least.

“Will you hurry up?”

“My, my, aren’t we impatient,” Theon croons as he takes his fingers away and pushes down his breeches and smallclothes. He coats his cock in what oil was left in the vial, groaning at the friction that it momentarily provides – he’s only slightly less hard than Robb, and he’s been alone in here for the entirety of the dinner. Most probably he spent a good part of it jerking off without coming. The thought isn’t making anything to make him less hard.

“Right,” he says, “hold yourself up. You don’t want to fall down now, do you?”

“Can’t you just fuck me already?” Robb’s hands tighten around his shoulders though, as the grip that his legs have around his back.

“Your demanding cousin isn’t as much of a demanding little shit as you, but as you wish,” Theon answers, and then he pushes inside. Robb moans as he sinks down against him, not entirely smooth but enough that it can’t have hurt much.

“Good?” he asks, as he starts thrusting shallowly, not too fast. Robb’s grip on his shoulders goes a little slacker at that, but not too much.

“Yes,” Robb breathes against his neck. “Yes, _good_.”

He doesn’t need more than that – he starts thrusting faster, groaning as Robb clenches around him and moans louder. At one point Theon reaches up with his hands and puts them around Robb’s back – Robb’s grip is slackening fast enough that he’s going to let go by the time he comes. Robb’s erection is hard against his stomach, and Robb’s breath is hot against his neck – at least until Robb starts sucking on a piece of skin on his neck. Theon debates for a moment if he should hide it tomorrow – he usually doesn’t bother, but it’d show that he went for a whore not even two days after the king visited and he isn’t too sure of what it’d say about him – then he promptly forgets it as he thrusts slower and deeper again. Everything is warm and tight and it feels perfect, and when Robb clenches tighter and comes against his stomach with a spasm, his hands definitely losing their grip, he pushes him up against the wall just to be sure that no one drops to the ground without warning. Then he comes with a shudder, biting down on his tongue before he screams out loud and they push their luck too much – Robb’s legs are clenching around his back and Theon hides his face down in the hollow of Robb’s neck. It tastes like sweat, and he can’t help biting down gently – he should return the favor, shouldn’t he? He shakes in pleasure as Robb’s legs slowly drop downwards, even if he keeps his arms in a loose hold around his shoulders.

They end up dropping on the ground a short while later, Robb slumping against Theon, the two of them on their knees. Theon’s breeches are ruined – he’ll have to go change them before someone notices or it’ll be awkward to explain. At least Robb didn’t have them on – damn him and his lack of patience.

“Wow,” Robb whispers. “Worth the wait.”

“Yeah, right. Just hope that no one stops me while I go get changed.”

“Oh, because you’d have rather stayed there?”

Theon shakes his head and moves so that his back is against the wall, Robb’s side pressing against his, Robb’s red curls soft against his hip.

“Nah. I’ll admit you’re better company. As long as no one else finds out that you have some hidden talents.”

“Idiot. As if I want to show them to someone else.” He doesn’t say the last part out loud, Theon barely hears it, but – it makes him feel strangely warm. And they don’t really need to go away right now, so he figures it won’t be too much of a risk if they stay for another couple of minutes. At worst, the wolf will make some noise.

\--

“I don’t like any of this,” Robb tells him as they watch Lord Stark ride towards King’s Landing along with his half-sisters.

Theon would have answered that he agreed wholeheartedly when a wail interrupts them and Rickon Stark runs stumbling into the room, crying his eyes out and attaching himself to Robb’s leg. Right. His mother hasn’t left Bran’s side since he fell from that tower and Jon is having to substitute for his father – he suspects that Rickon isn’t getting that much attention. And who knows how much he understands of what’s going on – he’s _three_ , gods. Robb sighs and picks him up, cradling him against his chest, and he does calm down a bit.

Before Theon can say anything, they also get company – the kid’s black direwolf (what the hell of a name is Shaggydog anyway?) strolls into the room, baring his already sharp teeth, but he doesn’t do anything other than growling and Theon decides that he can stop feeling slightly threatened. Robb is whispering something in his brother’s ear, and it’s half-working at least – he isn’t crying anymore.

“You don’t like this either, do you?” Theon whispers. Robb huffs as he moves his arm around Rickon’s waist.

“He doesn’t for sure. And I don’t either – one would think that – never mind. I was about to say something that I shouldn’t have.”

“If it’s about your mother –”

“I have no business telling my mother what she should do, even if she could realize that I’m a poor substitute and that if Bran wakes up, it won’t happen faster if she’s there every hour of every day. Then again, he’s her son, too.”

Sometimes Theon wonders how exactly did Jon and Robb grow up before he came at Winterfell – Lady Stark is a lot closer to the children she had with Ned Stark than to Jon, but it’s not as if they’re in bad relations. He’s also sure that at least for appearances she couldn’t have treated them the same, but what does he know. Surely he has no business discussing any parenting choices.

“Do you want to go talk to her? I can look after him.” He’d never offer that kind of thing usually, but Robb looks tired and frustrated as if he’s realizing just now that he’s not in a position to change anything of what’s going on.

Robb looks at him half-gratefully, but then shakes his head. “Thanks but you don’t need to. I think I’ll just go take a walk to the godswood and back – maybe it’s going to be enough of a distraction. If you want to come…”

“Right. Sure. Nothing better to do,” he mutters before following Robb out of the room. Not long after, they get another direwolf joining the group – Robb’s, obviously – and Theon can’t help thinking that they must make an odd sight, the three of them plus the wolves on the side, but what does he know either. At least Rickon seems less cranky the farther they go from Winterfell.

\--

That evening, he doesn’t expect Robb to wake him up at some unholy hour in the night by unceremoniously dropping on his bed without an ounce of grace.

“Seven hells,” he mutters as he sits up, “what’re you doing here?”

Robb doesn’t answer him. Instead, he sits up as well, takes off his shoes and cloak and outer layers until he’s just in his breeches and shirt, and then crawls under the covers before throwing an arm around his waist.

“You don’t want to know,” he mutters. “Bran’s still – well, like _that_ , my mother didn’t listen to me when I tried to tell her that – well, ‘bout today. Rickon wouldn’t stop crying – took both me and Jon to calm him down after dinner. While his wolf howled, obviously. And then Jon was there apologizing about not being able to be around more and it took me almost as long to convince him that I get that he has to run things. Gods, how can you even ask me if I’d like to be in his place? I couldn’t do it.”

“How do you know that?”

“I do. And surely I wouldn’t want it right now.”

One day, Theon will just stop being surprised at Robb’s utter lack of ambition. He shrugs, moves closer and puts an arm around his waist as well – nothing that couldn’t be mistaken as brotherly if someone searching for Robb walked in here.

“Go to sleep, Snow. You’re not thinking straight.”

“I am,” Robb protests, but he’s out a moment later, and Theon sighs before trying to go back to sleep again. He doesn’t like this situation at all, but it’s not like he has much power over it.

\--

“He’ll come around,” Robb tells him as he closes the door to Theon’s room, and Theon lets out a bitter laugh.

“Whatever. You don’t need to make me feel better about it. His loss.”

“Oh gods, seriously? I’m just telling you that I’m on your side here, you know. Don’t take it as I’m insulting you. And if it makes you feel better, I told him that he was an idiot and that he should apologize. You did save Bran’s life after all.”

“Oh, Lord Stark the younger, apologizing to me? Please. As if it’d ever happen.”

“Maybe he won’t, but he shouldn’t have lashed at you. And you didn’t miss – maybe he should have told you not to try something that risky next time, but I’m not sure that he’d have liked it better if you had done nothing.”

Theon shrugs and puts his head in his hands – it’s hurting.

“Robb, it’s not going to change anything. It’s fine. Whatever. He’ll never trust me, the way his father doesn’t and the way your mother doesn’t, and I know that.” He still asks himself why does he even still try anyway.

The last thing he expects is finding himself with a very grey direwolf sitting next to his feet and licking his hand. He hadn’t even noticed it had come in with Robb.

He tentatively strokes the wolf’s head, kind of amazed that it lets him, and when he raises his eyes Robb is half-smirking as he leans against the door.

“So what, you’re sending your direwolf to do your business?”

“Just when he’s needed.” Robb walks forward and moves on Theon’s bed, putting himself behind him. He wraps an arm around his waist from behind, and Theon feels kind of ashamed as he leans back and puts his head on Robb’s shoulder. They shouldn’t – he shouldn’t allow this kind of thing. Fucking is something, _this_ is an entire other matter, and if his father could see him right now he’d probably disown him, but it feels so nice, and this was a pretty horrible day and maybe it’s better for everyone that he doesn’t spend the rest of it sulking behind a closed door.

Grey Wind nuzzles against his palm and Theon scratches behind his ears, and maybe he really should stop trying to impress every other Stark that he’ll never manage to win over. After all, he does have one, regardless of his name.

\--

When Jon calls the banners (and he has to – he couldn’t have done differently after reading about his father’s imprisonment) the last thing Theon expects is that it ends up with no Stark left in Winterfell and everyone that isn’t Ser Rodrik and his soldiers going to Riverrun along with Jon. To be honest, he could have stayed behind, but someone has probably advised Jon to keep him close, and everyone in Winterfell knows that Robb would have stayed behind with his brothers. But everyone in Winterfell also knew that he wouldn’t have liked it. Then again, Robb had objected to leave both Bran and Rickon in Winterfell for themselves – good point, especially when Rickon spends most of his time stuck to him lately. Poor kid, Theon thinks, and not without understanding the situation. At least one army with four direwolves coming along might have an advantage, Theon figures. He goes along with the plan – it’s not like he can say no, right? – even if he isn’t exactly on board with fighting Jon Stark’s war. If it had been Robb then Theon wouldn’t have thought about it twice, but as it is, it feels like fighting a war for some far cousin that you like well-enough, and not more than that.

He laughs as he realizes that if Robb goes to fight Jon’s war (and he has all the reasons) then Theon will do the same but just because Robb is there. His father would so not be happy about any of this, but Theon can’t bring himself to care much for it.

\--

“Do you still think I should envy him?” Robb whispers against Theon’s ear as they lay down in Theon’s tent – tomorrow morning they’re headed for the Whispering Wood.

“Sorry?”

“Come on, why would I ever envy Jon? I wouldn’t want to be related to bloody Walder Frey even if they paid me to.”

Theon snorts and figures that he can’t see any fault in that particular reasoning.

\--

The evening Jon is crowned King in the North, Robb comes back to Theon’s tent a lot later than he usually does. He also looks gloomy, which – isn’t what Theon had expected.

“What in the seven hells happened?”

“More than one thing.” Robb sits down next to him. “First thing, my cousin said that he was thinking of legitimizing me. I might have refused.”

“… you did _what_?”

“I refused.”

“Why – why in the seven hells would you even do that?”

“Didn’t I tell you a ridiculous number of times already? I don’t want it. I’m fine with things the way they are. I’d do almost everything for him, but possibly taking his place – I can’t. I saw how it is. I can’t even begin to think about how I should do it. And I’d feel like stealing from the others.”

“You _what_ , again?”

“My father never was Lord of Winterfell, Theon. My uncle was. It should be theirs, before I’m even considered.” Robb’s wolf strides inside the tent, curling around Robb’s side.

“But that’s not the main thing.” Robb sighs. “He needs a fleet.”

“And?”

“And he’s in mind of asking your father for an alliance. He asked me what I thought of it. I answered that I sincerely have no idea. And then he said – that he’ll talk to you about it. He also said that if it comes to – well, you asking personally for it… I should go with you.”

Theon isn’t sure that he can wrap his head around the reasoning. “And why’s that?”

“Well, why do you think that’d be for?”

Oh. Right. It’s not that hard, Theon thinks. “He doesn’t trust me, but he trust you to keep me in line?”

“Yes. I just – I don’t want you to think that – that I think you should be kept in line. Or anything like that. I don’t like it, all right?”

Theon can get why well enough. He isn’t too adverse to the idea – they could ally with worse people, he thinks, and he’s sure he can spin things so that he comes up with a plan that makes everyone happy – but if Robb goes with him to Pyke and things turn out bad – he’s sure they wouldn’t, but still – he’d be in a piss-poor position, would he?

“Stop thinking about it,” Theon tells him. “We’ll see when it actually comes to pass.”

Robb sighs and lays down next to him, pressing up against his back, and Theon doesn’t tell him not to.

\--

The plan is sensible, Theon thinks. And it’s bound to make everyone satisfied. Independence for the Iron Islands along with the Lannisters’ gold, Jon gets a fleet, he gets to go back home and take his rightful place. What could possibly go wrong?

Robb goes with him, of course, and Theon is too busy feeling excited about going back home for the first time in ten years to worry about what Robb might do holed up in his cabin for the entire first day.

Therefore, he’s utterly baffled when he knocks on Robb’s door and finds that the idiot dyed his hair black.

“What in the seven hells did you do?” Theon asks.

“Theon, your father lost a war against my uncle a long time ago. Do you really think that if I came in striding next to you boasting that my name is Robb Snow and by the way, Ned Stark was my uncle, anyone will be happy to hear it? Not to mention that trying to hide Grey Wind will be hilarious. I suppose we could say that he’s yours, he could pretend, but I’m not sure it’s much of a good idea.”

“You’re worrying too much,” Theon replies, though he does get Robb’s point.

“Whatever. From now on, I think we should play it safe. Just say that my name is Rickard and that I’m your squire.”

“Aren’t you a bit too old for that?”

“Why, because since I’m supposed to be a lowborn northern bastard I should complain if a lord’s son wants me for his squire?” Robb grins as he asks that. Theon shuts the door and goes to sit on the bed next to him.

“Good point. Also – well, that wolf is fucking large. Can’t you just tell it to go hide in the forest and meet you back outside the port in a week or so? If we let him loose at night, no one is going to notice. Hopefully.”

“Could work. Trying’s worth it, I guess.”

“Gods, that black hair looks horrible on you.”

“Well, excuse me, my lord, the only whore I could find in Seagard before we left only had black dye to sell me. And she assured me that it’s the only kind that covers red without hassle, so you’re stuck with it.”

“Fine, but it’s still bloody ugly.”

“Why, you only like me for my hair? You wound me.”

“Snow, shut it,” Theon replies, and before Robb can speak again he kisses him as he pushes him down against the mattress. Robb is worrying too much, and Theon is feeling good, and there’s no reason why he shouldn’t indulge in his good mood and possibly making Robb sulk less.

Seriously, Robb is exaggerating. What could possibly go wrong?

\--

“Theon, let me in.”

“Fuck off.”

“If you think I’m fucking off to where I’m supposed to stay, you can forget it. Let me in.”

Theon really, really wishes that Robb would just go the fuck away and leave him here to lick his wounds, because that’s exactly what he needs right now and not Robb reminding him that Jon’s war is at stake here – as if Theon gives a damn about Jon Stark – but he knows that tone and he knows that Robb won’t go away unless he relents.

So he opens the door.

“Where did they put you?” he asks tiredly.

“Some room that I’m sharing with ten maids, but it’s just over the kitchens and everything stinks of fish. I can’t exactly think clearly. Come on, let me in.”

“If this is about Jon –”

“This is about me overhearing that entire conversation, about the face you had when you stormed out of that room and about me understanding why your father never sent you a raven, it’s _not_ about Jon.”

That voice he used to hear years ago that sounds like his father’s is telling him to shut the door in Robb’s face.

He steps aside and lets him in, instead.

He locks the door and turns to see Robb looking at the room in distaste.

“Is this really the best he could find you?” he asks as he takes in how small and damp the room is.

“Do you think I asked?” Theon almost winces at hearing his own voice – he’s rarely sounded this bitter to his own ears.

Then Robb is right in front of him, looking at the tear on his tunic. He doesn’t know if Robb’s noticing that he isn’t wearing that pendant anymore.

“What – wasn’t that your favorite?” Robb asks, and of course he’d know which clothes he likes to wear most, and Theon just wishes he would shut up, because he’s about to say things that he’d regret.

“Well, he didn’t fancy it as much as I did. You said you heard it.”

“I did,” Robb replies quietly. “And he had no right to tell you any of that.”

“What?”

“ _What_. Seriously? He was talking about you being at Winterfell like it was somehow your decision to spend ten years there. What did he expect, that you’d come back dressing like an Ironborn? I don’t remember that you started that war.”

Theon forces himself to stay still rather than flinching or punching a wall or throw Robb out before he does something very embarrassing. “Well, you heard him. And you should go back.”

“I should do what?”

“Robb, I can’t push for it. He burned Jon’s letter and it’s not like I can go back to Riverrun. Your cousin sure as the seven hells doesn’t trust me and apparently it’s not even a given that I might inherit here – what, I go back to Jon with nothing and disown myself at the same time? It’s not like I’m turning my cloak. But if you stay here you will be. You can leave at night – no one is going to notice.” Admittedly, he’s forcing himself to say it – the last thing he wants is Robb going, but he’s not that much of an idiot or that much of a selfish man – he can’t ask for it.

“You’re an idiot,” Robb replies. “And I’m not going anywhere until I’m sure there’s no other option.”

“Oh, because _there’s another option_?”

“Yes there is, your sister!”

For the next handful of seconds, they stare at each other without speaking, and Theon – he just doesn’t get what Robb is aiming for.

“All right. Let’s just – just explain me how you think that my sister might even want to agree to that plan when you saw how high she holds me in her esteem this morning.”

“Well, it’d have helped if you hadn’t started proposing her,” Robb snorts, but he looks more amused than anything else.

“I didn’t know it was her! I hadn’t seen her in years!”

“Right, whatever. That’s not the point. The point is that she doesn’t hold you in high esteem right now. But she’s no idiot, from the looks of it. Also, your plan might not give your father his precious revenge, but it would give the whole lot of you a lot more gold and power. Casterly Rock is a lot more useful than any harbor in the North. Or all of them put together, for that matter. Allying with Jon would be more sensible under any circumstance. And as much as your sister might agree with your father about the vengeance issue, maybe explaining things to her calmly could convince her.”

“Yeah, right. You saw her.”

“You were talking about fucking her and she was playing you – I don’t think it qualifies as _explaining calmly_.”

“That’s not going to make sure I inherit, though. I can’t side with her if I want to, can I?”

Robb’s face falls at that, but not because Theon is questioning his plan. He’s looking at him like he’s sincerely sorry, and Theon doesn’t get why he would –

Except that maybe he does.

“I don’t really want to say it,” Robb whispers. “But – I wouldn’t – damn.”

“I think I know,” he says, his voice equally thin. “Say it anyway.”

“You saw the longships at the port. No one who has decided to go to war recently has that number of ships ready. We only sent a raven about you coming just before we left. And it wasn’t even a month ago. I think – I think it’s – he must have been planning for this for a long time.”

“Since before he even knew I was coming back, has he?” Theon wishes he could just ignore that, that it had never crossed his mind, but – but Robb is right. There’s no way that this was planned just after Ned Stark’s death, and even if it had been then it didn’t change things – if Jon hadn’t decided to send him, then he’d have still been his hostage, wouldn’t he?

Robb doesn’t say that he’s sorry – at least that – but he doesn’t need to. It’s written all over his face. He comes closer though, putting himself at his side, not touching but close enough to do that if he wished so.

“If you put yourself against your sister it’s just going to make her dislike you even more and it probably won’t change your father’s mind. But maybe if you convince her that you’re better than what she’s seen until now, you’d get her to change hers. You need to have someone on your side here, and from what I’ve seen it won’t be your father or your uncle.”

“Right. So I should be begging for scraps from her?”

“I’d call it ensuring my inheritance, not beginning for scraps. Or at least some inheritance.”

The mere idea makes him want to vomit, except that he can’t tell Robb to fuck off and leave him to it. He isn’t talking nonsense, and maybe since he’s not involved in this there’s half a chance that he can see it better. Except that he can’t deal with it right now.

“I’ll wait until dinner,” he finally says. “If it goes the way the rest went, I’ll think about it.”

“Do you want me to come up here after?”

He should say no. He really should say no.

“If you can.”

“Oh, I think I can manage. Think about it. And – stop thinking that I’m worrying about what Jon might think of me if I go back without you.”

“What –”

“Stop that. I know you’re doing it.”

Then Robb turns his back on him and leaves, and Theon can’t help wondering how could he have gotten it so _wrong_.

\--

When he comes back from dinner, he slams the door.

Not that anyone is going to hear it anyway, since apparently no one else sleeps in this particular hallway. Not that the reason is a mystery. He lights a candle with trembling fingers and sits down on the bed, trying to stop himself from clenching his hands hard enough to bleed. The last thing he’d have thought was that he’d feel humiliated throughout the entire thing, but – right. Not as if he hasn’t felt like that since he found out that he had been feeling up his sister.

He startles when he hears the knock on the door.

Then he remembers that Robb was supposed to show up.

“Come in,” he hisses, hoping that Robb heard him. He can’t bring himself to sit up now.

Robb hears him, apparently, because he’s inside a moment later.

“I was there,” he says quietly.

“How?”

“Well, I’m sharing the room over the kitchen with ten women. One was serving your dinner. It wasn’t too difficult to convince her to bring me over. I’ve been outside the room half of the time.”

Theon snorts – he should be pissed, but it’s better like this. At least he doesn’t have to talk about it.

“Go on, say it,” he sighs a moment later.

“Say what?”

“Whatever you’ve been brewing.” He can imagine it well enough. Maybe he shouldn’t have spent so much time talking about the day he’d rule over the Iron Islands one day, when he still was at Winterfell.

“Your father deserves a punch in the face,” Robb replies calmly, and – well. Fuck. That wasn’t what he had thought he’d say.

“He deserves what?”

“Gods, seriously? He isn’t even giving you a chance here. And he decided to start a rebellion knowing what’d happen if he lost, not you.”

“Fuck. Did you hear the part about the one longship he’d give me if I decided to go with his plan? To reave fishermen’s villages. Of course. Whatever. Robb, really, you should leave. I don’t want you to get caught in this. You can tell your king that I tried, not that it’ll change anything.”

The last thing he expects is for Robb to sit down next to him and grab his arm, forcing him to look up.

“Listen, I can’t – just talk to your sister. Give it a try at least.”

“She isn’t that much better.”

“Because you didn’t even try.”

“Oh, for – why do you even care?”

“You’re such an idiot – _why_ do you think I care? I’d like to remind you that I came here because Jon asked me, not because he ordered me. And I’d have probably asked you to come even if he hadn’t told me to. And while I can’t care less for what your father does or thinks, I care that you don’t deserve any of that. Fine, I also want Jon to win the war, obviously, but I also want you to get something good out of this, and – sorry, but from what I see here, you’re not exactly picking a good option. Or at least, it’s not better than going back with me. If your sister sees that you actually have a good plan and that you’re not as worthless as she undoubtedly thinks right now, and if she inherits later, at least she’ll remember to give you _something_ , which is more than it seems to me that you’re getting out of this whole deal.”

Robb looks down at the ground after saying that, and for a moment Theon feels legitimately without words – what could you answer to that, anyway?

Also, it was obvious that Robb wasn’t lying. If only he wasn’t suggesting something that his pride doesn’t like one bit – the last thing he wants is begging with his sister. Except that Robb is right – until he tries, he doesn’t know if it’s going to work. And if he doesn’t – his sister has a fleet and he’ll have one ship, which means he’ll spend months on the side, and it’s not like that will make his father think highly of him.

“She’ll never accept.”

“You don’t know until you try. If it doesn’t work fine, we’ll see, but – at least talk to her. She’s still your bloody sister, at least she’ll hear it out.”

“As if.” It’s depressing that Robb is in fact being more supportive than she’ll ever be. Or than his brothers ever were.

“And fuck, this room is horrible,” Robb comments a moment later.

“I should have understood it the moment I saw it,” Theon mutters. 

“Yes, and you also should get some sleep and go talk to your sister tomorrow. You look wrecked.”

Theon can imagine that. He feels wrecked.

He’s also not expecting Robb to put an arm around his shoulders and drag him down on the bed.

“What –”

“What do you think I’m doing? Go to sleep, I’ll go back to the kitchen later.”

And then Robb is pressing up against him, his arm around Theon’s waist, and he really should say that it’s not necessary, but Robb feels familiar and warm and everything that this place isn’t, and so he doesn’t do anything and closes his eyes.

In the morning, no one’s there – obviously. But there’s a blanket covering him and for a moment he’s glad that he didn’t come here on his own.

\--

He manages to find Asha talking to some of the men in her crew. He swallows down bile and asks her if they can talk alone, and she answers that it can be three hours from now at the stables. He has no idea why it can’t be inside the castle, but it’s enough that she agreed.

Also, the stables are fine. Mostly because that’s exactly where Robb should be. Theon gets there a bit before the agreed time and finds him tending to his horse.

“You’re taking that story seriously, aren’t you?”

“Well, I’m supposed to be a bloody squire, no reason to make everyone suspect that I’m not. And I know how to care for my horse. That said, what are you doing here?”

“That’s where she’s meeting me, apparently. Try not to look as if you’re trying to hear us, though.”

Robb rolls his eyes and looks at the horse again. “I won’t. Go, she’ll definitely get suspicious if she sees you talking to me.”

Theon goes outside the stable and waits. Once in a while he looks at Robb.

He can’t help thinking that black hair really looks horrible on him.

\--

“So, what is this about?” Asha asks, and she sounds like she can’t wait to be anywhere else.

Splendid.

He takes a breath and hopes that his voice comes out as calm as he wants it to be.

“Listen, I realize that things are decided, and I know that you have no obligation to consider it, but – I still think that we – that you’d gain more out of going against the Lannisters rather than the North. And I’m not saying it because _the Starks made me theirs_.”

“Really. And why would you even say it at all, then?”

“Because it’s the truth. The places in the North that you’re planning to attack have no riches, and even if you went for Winterfell you wouldn’t find much in there, in that sense. Winter is coming at some point and if it’s land you want then you won’t do much with the North anyway – do you think it’s going to give you crops? The Westerlands have good land and Casterly Rock is overflowing with gold, which you’d probably need a lot more than whatever you’d find North. And according to what – to what was in that letter I carried, the Islands would still be their own kingdom after it.”

“All good and proper, but no one gets revenge, do they?”

“Oh, hells – Ned Stark is dead. Most people who fought that war are. The people you want revenge against were children when it started.”

“And are you sure that you aren’t trying to convince me just because you’re making _their_ best interests?”

“Oh, for – Asha, I don’t care about their best interests. It’s not like me and the current King in the North are best friends – at most we’ve been polite to each other and that’s it. And it was the same with – with pretty much everyone else.”

He just hopes that Robb won’t take it personally, but he can’t let her think that he actually has real ties to anyone at Winterfell.

“I just happen to think that it’s the best option also for us,” he says then. She doesn’t look too convinced.

“And how would you know? You haven’t been here recently.”

He wishes she’d never said it, because the moment she asks the question, he loses any force of will to keep this civil.

“It wasn’t my own choice, was it? I’m also wondering what would have happened if Jon Stark decided to send someone else to ask for that alliance. When are you leaving, a few days for now? Has anyone thought about what would happen to _me_ if you went to war?”

Asha’s face goes suddenly pale at that – well, at least that.

“It wasn’t –”

“Let me guess, you don’t know if it was taken into account and you didn’t ask, did you?”

“Well, it wasn’t my decision.”

“Maybe not, but you could at least hear me out, couldn’t you?”

“And even if I agreed, do you think that I’d make Father change his mind? You must be mad.”

“At least he’d listen to you.”

“He listened to you just fine.”

“That wasn’t listening to me,” Theon hisses. “For – gods, I didn’t exactly choose to go to Winterfell for ten years, did I?”

“And what were you expecting?”

“Not _this_!” They’re shouting by now – gods, half of the castle must have heard them. Robb included.

“Grow up then! This is not fucking Lys. Deal with it.”

“Don’t you think that you could give him a little credit, instead?”

Silence falls as the two of them turn towards Theon’s right. Where Robb is standing, and fuck but Theon hadn’t heard him coming at all.

“So I should take advice from my brother’s squire now? He can’t even defend himself on his own?”

Robb sighs and shakes his head. “Not really,” he replies. “Well, fine, let’s put the cards on the table.”

“Robb, what are you even thinking?” Theon hisses, dreading the consequences. If he tells the truth –

“I’m not sure of it myself.”

“ _Robb_?” Asha asks. “Wasn’t your name –”

“No. The surname was right, though.”

“Wait, didn’t he say you were – oh, bloody hells. You brought a _Stark_ in here?” she asks, turning towards Theon again.

Damn.

“He didn’t bring a Stark,” Robb replies calmly. “I said my name was Snow. Not Stark. And it’s never going to be Stark.”

“Oh, when your cousin is a king?”

“He already asked me, and I refused. That’s not the point, though. The point is that if you think that I’m only trying to make my cousin’s interests, you’d be partially wrong. First thing, I’d just like you to know that the plan was his. Not Jon’s, not anyone else’s. I have no reason to lie to you, believe me.”

“And why should I? Enlighten me.”

“I could have been sitting at my cousin’s right by now, and I’m here instead. And I picked it. One can see from miles that you’re not stupid – why would you think that I’m here? Or that I stepped in, for that matter.”

Asha glances at Theon, then at Robb again.

“Oh, that’s not the way it is,” she says.

“I said I didn’t care about _pretty much_ everyone else,” Theon replies, wishing that Robb had kept his mouth shut.

“The way it is, is that he’s my friend,” Robb interrupts, lowering his voice. “And the way it is, is that I’d personally like it if both him and my family could get something out of this deal. Also, he isn’t lying. Have you ever been North during winter? Because it’s not what I’d opt for if I wanted to go reaving and come home with a decent bounty.”

“I also don’t care for what you want, though,” Asha says.

“What I want isn’t the issue, of course. But really, from what I see here, the only reason you’re attacking the North is that your father wants revenge. Except that my uncle and the king are both dead. When he started his war, Jon was five and I was four. His sister was two. All the others weren’t even born. But now we should pay for it when, excuse me, your father started a war knowing perfectly what’d happen if he lost? And mostly, _he_ should pay for it? I can guarantee you that when he arrived at Winterfell he didn’t look so happy to be there. What I’m suggesting is that everyone goes for the most convenient option for all of us instead of starting another war on top of the other still going on.”

“And what do you gain out of it?”

Robb shrugs. “Nothing. And I’m fine with it. Gaining something is not what I’m after.”

“For real.”

“I’ve only ever wanted to be a hedge knight,” Robb replies with all the calm in the world. Theon envies him. “I’m not after gold or lands. I can’t care less. That said, you really should give your brother more credit.”

“Excuse me?”

“He’s not half as bad as you think he is, or as your father thinks. Not that he isn’t an idiot, because he is, but you should try to see behind that. Can I leave you to talk or you’re going to kill each other?”

Asha stares at him for a moment.

Then her mouth curls up in a half-smile and Theon thinks he’s hallucinating it.

“Go. We’re not going to kill each other.”

“Good.”

Then Robb calmly turns his back on them and leaves.

Asha looks bloody impressed.

“So that’s the Stark bastard?”

“So what if he is?”

“Huh. I can’t say he doesn’t have guts. And the worst thing is that he wasn’t even lying.” She sighs. “Listen, let’s say that I try to convince our father that your plan actually has sense. It’s not like you aren’t right about what we’d gain out of pursuing vengeance against dead people. What do you want out of it? Don’t try to convince me that you don’t.”

Theon sighs, takes a deep breath and hopes that he doesn’t fuck it up.

“Well, from what I see I’m not inheriting anytime soon. Just remember not to leave me without anything when you do. And I wouldn’t mind it if you trusted me with more than one fucking ship sent to do some menial job.”

“That’s all?”

“What else should I even ask for? I saw how things are. I’m not an idiot. I understood it. And I don’t think I’m asking too much.”

“No,” Asha agrees. “I can’t argue. Fine. I’ll see what I can do. And go tell your squire that there’s no reason for him to keep pretending. He can wash off that hair dye.”

“What –”

“It’s clear as rain that it’s not his real color. Any woman would know that dying your hair is useless if you don’t dye the eyebrows every day, too,” she replies, sounding almost amused, and then she goes towards the first entrance to the castle.

Theon can’t believe that she really accepted.

\--

“You’re insane,” he tells Robb hours later, when Robb knocks at his door. “What if she had taken it the other way?”

“Well, I figured it couldn’t be worse than the way it was going already.” He shrugs. “Did she talk to him?”

“She might be doing that right now, as far as I know. Fuck, I’m not sure of what I should do.”

“What are you options?”

“One is punching you in the face,” he mutters.

“Nice. And the other?”

Theon ponders it for a moment. _Seven hells, I might as well own up to it_ , he decides, and kisses him instead.

Robb is panting when it’s over, and Theon is as well – he hadn’t thought it’d turn into the two of them ravaging themselves for the next handful of minutes, but he had obviously thought wrong.

“Well, I like it better than you punching me in the face,” Robb says, breathless.

”I suppose you would,” Theon agrees. “Just – even if it doesn’t work out, thanks anyway. Really.”

“Oh, shut it. No need.”

Theon isn’t too sure about the whole _no need_ thing. He’s pretty sure that not many people would have stuck around, not when the reality was far from what he had always said out loud. Robb rolls his eyes after staring at him for a short while, looking as if he has just guessed what was passing through his head.

“Gods, you can be dense when you want to.”

“What?”

“Greyjoy, I thought it was plenty clear that _I like you_. Always have, always did, and it won’t be your idiot of a father that will make me change my mind about it. Do you think that back when you arrived at Winterfell I spent a month trying to get your attention just because I was bored?”

“Actually, I’m still wondering why. You were a persistent little shit.”

“I already answered you. And I’m never, ever saying that out loud again.”

Theon doesn’t know how to answer that, he sincerely and truly doesn’t. So he moves forward and kisses Robb again instead.

\--

The thing is, he hadn’t thought that it would work, after all.

And instead it does. He doesn’t know what Asha said or did, but the next time she sees him she tells him that he should better be able to command three ships, and that yes, they’re going for Casterly Rock, and if Jon Stark takes back what he promised there’ll be hells to pay.

Theon is too busy gaping to even speak.

\--

“So – I suppose you’re going to Riverrun now?”

“Why would I go to Riverrun?” Robb asks him in front of the ships he’s supposed to be in charge of. Grey Wind is at his feet, having come back when Robb had told him two weeks ago. Half of the hair dye is gone by now – the red and black hair looks weird, though still better than just black.

“Well – someone has to tell Jon. And – I thought that – I mean, wouldn’t you –”

Robb shakes his head, looking at him almost fondly. “I sent him a raven. And no, I’m not going to Riverrun. He has enough people fighting for him, it’s not like he needs me there. And my mother doesn’t either, since my brothers are there.”

“So –”

“So I’m coming with you, what else should I be doing? I already fought enough battles on land. I’d rather do that from a ship.”

“And does Jon agree with it?”

“He didn’t disagree when he answered,” Robb replies. “Besides, why do you think I always wanted to keep my own name? Even if he had disagreed, it’d still have been my own decision.”

And then he walks on the ship, wolf and pack of clothes and bow and all, and Theon doesn’t even want to know what is a crew of Ironborns going to make out of it.

Not that he cares a bit.

\--

“My lord? Someone is asking for you.”

“Did they leave a name?”

“No, but he said you’d know. He, uh, he came in with a rather large wolf, if –”

“Let him in.”

Theon cuts the guard short and smiles to himself the moment he goes out of the room. He can’t help it – he hadn’t thought that it’d be this soon. Right, it’s been two years, but considering all the plans Robb had when they parted ways at King’s Landing just after Jon struck a deal with Stannis Baratheon so that the latter would have the kingdom and the former the North, he had thought it’d take him a lot more than two years.

Robb walks inside his not-so-lavish main hall a short while later, wolf at his side.

Theon is very, very displeased that the guard came with, because if he stays here then he can’t do all the things he wants, first of which would be pushing Robb Snow against a wall and ravishing him here and now – gods, it’s been just two years, but he obviously must have traveled a lot. And in warm places, because his skin has taken a healthy tan that was never there even during the northern summers, and there are small freckles (most probably brought on by the sun) all over his cheeks and under his short beard. Count that he’s dressed in light gray – it’s hardly a fault if ravishing is his first instinct.

“You look good,” he finally says. Robb smirks and bows slightly, most probably not to make the guard suspect anything – he’s obviously trying not to laugh out loud.

“My lord, that’s very kind of you.”

“Right. And how come you’re here this soon? I’d have thought it’d take you longer to _see everything that there is to see in Westeros_.”

Robb shrugs, taking another couple of steps closer. “I’ve still seen a lot.” He glances at his left and Theon dismisses the guard. And every other standing outside the hall.

“Everyone’s gone,” he informs Robb when he’s sure that they all left.

“Well, as said, I’ve been in a lot of places. But while the hedge knight’s life can be good… well, at some point it’s also tedious. If you’re on your own, obviously. I was about to get on a ship for the free islands, then I heard that there was one for White Harbor as well and I changed my mind.”

“Right. And how many fair maidens did you save in the last two years?”

“Oh, enough. And I didn’t bed any of them, if that was what you were about to ask.”

Not that he’d have had trouble, Theon thinks – he’s a bit taller than he used to be two years ago, and has a lot more muscle. No maiden in her right mind (actually, no woman in her right mind) would say no.

“So I gather that you visited Winterfell?”

“I did. And everyone is doing extremely well, but Jon says that you send ravens regularly, so it’s nothing you don’t know.”

“And now you’ve come to my humble abode?”

“Oh, come on, this is no humble abode. And you still got an entire island, right?”

Theon snorts – fine, he can’t deny it. He hadn’t really thought that Asha would remember all the terms after their father fell off a bridge during the war and she inherited. But after all since he had kept his word and supported her when it mattered, she eventually did remember. He hadn’t thought that she’d give him what would have been hers from their mother’s side, and Harlaw is far from the worst piece of land you could rule.

“Well, in comparison to Winterfell it might be. So, how long are you staying?”

Robb looks at him as if he just asked the most stupid question in the history of stupid questions.

“I don’t know. How long do you want me to?”

“Wait – you aren’t – I mean, I thought you’d go back to Winterfell. You aren’t?”

“Jon asked me if I had thought further about the whole legitimization issue. And I answered him that I still wasn’t interested. They’re doing good. My presence isn’t strictly required. Fine, my mother wasn’t too thrilled with my plans, but apparently she suspected for a while.”

“So which were your plans?”

“Unless you have objections, I was going to stay here. What kind of plans do you think I might have had? I should hope that you do have some space for me.”

“I – of course I do. I just didn’t think –”

“Oh gods, here we are again. Almost fourteen years, ten of which we spent living in the same place, and you still didn’t get it?”

“Get what?”

“Theon Greyjoy, I thought I’d made it clear enough during all this time that given the choice, I’ll pick _you_. So, do you have room or not?”

Thing is, Theon doesn’t think he has words right now.

But he also has sent all the guards away, and he’s sure that no one is going to bother him right this moment.

So he walks forward and pushes Robb against the wall and kisses him without even attempting to keep himself in check. Robb kisses back almost furiously, his hands grabbing fistfuls in Theon’s hair, and probably cursing the fact that he’s wearing armor right now from the way he’s moving.

“Of course I have room,” Theon breathes out when they part – Robb’s cheeks are flushing, and gods but the tan looks good on him. “I’m pretty sure I can find you something better to do than being a squire.”

“Oh, good, I won’t have to dye my hair again.”

“Don’t even try. Fuck, you could have sent a raven, you know that?”

“Where’s the surprise when you send ravens? And if you’ll excuse me, I think I’m going to take off this stupid armor now.”

Which is a perfectly good idea, Theon decides. He calls for one of the maids and instructs her to show Robb to the currently empty room at the end of the hall where he sleeps, which used to be his own the few times he had visited Harlaw before his father’s first rebellion. While Robb follows the maid, he instructs one of the guards to bring up what baggage Robb might have with him to the same room and he can’t stop smiling to himself.

When Grey Wind, instead of following Robb inside the room, moves resolutely to his side, Theon reaches down to scratch behind his ears and he’s not the kind of idiot who doesn’t understand what it means.

\--

An hour later or so, he knocks on Robb’s door. When he gets in Robb has ditched the armor for a plain gray tunic and dark grey breeches – gods, he really looks good.

“Is the room to your liking?”

“Well, it’s a lot nicer than the one I shared with the ten maids.”

“Right, and that one was totally wasted on you, wasn’t it?”

“I never saw you complaining.”

Theon shakes his head and sits next to him on the bed.

“Listen, dinner is going to be after sunset. Usually – it’s just me and my mother. My uncle is busy being my sister’s Hand, and at least she didn’t pick the ones on our father’s side.” Robb nods when Theon pauses, and then he takes a breath and goes on. “My mother’s currently doing a lot better than she was when I got here, at least, but – I’m not sure how she’d take someone showing up at dinner without knowing before.”

“I can eat later, you know.”

“No, I was asking you if you wanted to be introduced first. Then I’m the dim one.”

“Oh.” Robb’s eyes widen for a moment – he obviously hadn’t expected it. Not that people won’t talk about it when Robb’s surname becomes known around these parts, but Theon can’t care less – not that his mother doesn’t know about Robb anyway. Not that he went into details, but at some point he did tell her about how he fared at Winterfell and the topic had had to be discussed.

“Of course,” he replies then, shaking his head as if wishing he hadn’t faltered for that moment. “If you want to do it now, it’s fine. Whenever you want.”

“Don’t look that worried,” Theon says as he stands up. “She already approves of you anyway.”

“She what?”

“Did you think that I wouldn’t have told her, in two years?”

For a moment, Robb stares at him as if he had expected anything but that, and then he smiles a small, pleased grin that makes Theon wish that dinner was long over. Because after dinner he’s dragging Robb to his own room and he’ll take that damn tunic off – he’s keeping himself from doing that with some effort, right now.

“Fine. Lead the way. _My lord_.”

As if he meant it, Theon thinks. Robb isn’t the kind of person who even has lords – he’s had enough proof of that. And he doesn’t really mind – actually, it wouldn’t be Robb if he was any different.

“And just so you know, sometimes I even mean it.”

Theon stops dead in his tracks and turns to look at Robb – they’re the same height now, and he looks deadly serious.

“You what?”

“You heard it the first time, Greyjoy. So, which way?”

“This one,” Theon replies as they walk, and fine, maybe he shouldn’t, but he can’t stop the grin spreading across his lips.

From the way Robb is glancing at him, it’s obvious that he isn’t missing it, and – right. If Robb is staying for good, they’ll have time to talk about it. Even if he isn’t sure that talking is in his plans for at least the next week or so.

Except that maybe he should at least say one thing.

“You know, two years ago you didn’t even give me time to say thanks.”

“For what?”

“Right, because if you hadn’t come to Pyke with your dyed hair and all, this would have turned out so well. I’m not the kind of fool that doesn’t see it.”

“I came because I wanted to,” Robb replies quietly. “You really don’t see it, do you?”

“What is that I’m not seeing?”

“Oh, but you can be remarkably dim, Greyjoy.”

He moves closer, pressing him up against the wall, finds Theon’s hand and laces their fingers together before bringing their joined hands upwards, in between them.

“True, I never did something as compromising as bending my knee, and I wouldn’t have done that for anyone. Do you want to know why I always wanted to keep my name? For real.”

“I always knew you were hiding something.”

“Nothing that complicated to guess. Didn’t you ever think that I wanted to keep it because it meant that I could do what I _chose_ rather than what I was obligated to do? True, most times the two were the same, but it doesn’t change the gist of it.”

Theon takes a breath, giving Robb a nod.

“That stated, I’d never bend my knee to anyone, but are you seriously so blind that you haven’t noticed that I’ve been doing the next best thing with you since I was nine? I don’t ask someone to be my brother now and always if I don’t mean it.”

“Wait. Wait, you’re saying that –”

“I just told you that I like being able to take my own decisions. You might have been my first. And when I make a choice, I don’t like to go back on it.”

“So – so you’re staying for good?”

“Unless you want me to go back to Winterfell…”

Theon doesn’t even let him finish – he switches their position and presses Robb up against the wall, wishing that they weren’t out in the open.

“If I have my say, you’re not going anywhere, Snow. Not for a very long time, and even if you wanted to leave for a while, I’d be personally offended if you didn’t come back.”

“Why, I think my lord has just read my mind.”

“Don’t make me do things I’d regret now and follow me instead,” Theon mutters, but before he can leave, Robb tightens his grip on his hand – he never left it – and kisses its back before letting it go.

“Of course. _My lord_.”

Theon laughs, trying not to think about how it felt when Robb pressed his mouth to his hand, and leads the way.

His life hasn’t ever been the way he wanted it to, probably even since before he was taken to Winterfell, but he has a notion that from now on it could be. If he ever resented the fact that he had been the one leaving Pyke thirteen years ago, he isn’t anymore. And if he ever wished that his name was Stark so that he’d feel at home there, he’s realizing that it was never about that. It would have been nice, of course, but it never was about Winterfell or about Ned Stark being a better father to his children than Theon’s ever was to him.

“What are you thinking about now? You’re frowning,” Robb asks as they walk.

Theon stops and takes a good look at him again. “Nothing special. And I wasn’t frowning.”

“You were. Are you sure that you’re fine?”

“Snow, I’ve never been better,” Theon replies before starting to walk again.

He means it entirely.

End.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> extra part written for a meme on tumblr where you could ask for fic timestamps - [ayaawesome](http://ayaawesome.tumblr.com/) wanted a pre-canon scene for this fic. I complied and now it's here for completion, featuring Jon actually having lines XD

“Robb, Father said -”

“I  _know_  what Father said,” Robb cuts his brother off. Jon just stares at him for a moment, then looks out of the window, then back at Robb who’s more or less  _not_  succeeding in making sure that Sansa doesn’t crawl out of the furs and into the cold hard ground. Or better, he  _is_ , but she’s coming pretty close to it all the time.

She’s way too quick at it if you ask Robb, but his mother is going to come back soon enough and  _then_  he can finally go outside and introduce himself properly.

“It wasn’t only him,” Jon says so very seriously, as if he’s worried that Robb might be getting into trouble. Robb almost laughs - he appreciates the concern, but if taking things  _this_  seriously is what it means to be the heir to Winterfell, Robb is really glad to be named Snow.

“Jon, I  _know_  Mother said the same.” Robb decides that it’s useless to stop his sister - he sits down on the fur and grabs at her waist. She starts tugging at his hair - good, she won’t move too much. “And it’s stupid. I don’t care. Look at him.”

Jon sighs and glances outside the window again. Theon Greyjoy is standing there, next to one of the heart trees, staring down at the road going south and looking so miserable it makes Robb want to cry. Jon does look like he gets it, he does, but he also doesn’t seem that much more convinced.

“And I know why he said it,” Robb adds, shrugging. He  _heard_  the conversation where his uncle explained Jon that Theon was a hostage, not a ward. “It’s still not right. He came a week ago. He’s always sad. ‘Course he’d be, but it’s not fair.”

“So what do you want to do?”

Robb shrugs again. “Show him the castle? I bet no one has. He’s always in his room. _Something_.”

Jon seems to ponder the situation, and then he walks up to him and gets Sansa off his hair. “I can’t come with you. But if you wanna go, go.”

Robb can’t help grinning at that - he  _knew_  Jon knew it wasn’t fair to leave Theon on his own.

“Thank you,” he tells him, and he sort of maybe tries to hug him but since Jon is holding Sansa up it ends up being one-armed. Still, he’s sure Jon understood the sentiment, and so he waves at the both of them and goes for his room. He’s going to get his furs and then he’s going to go outside and make sure that at least someone is nice to the poor guy, never mind that he’s looked so sad since he came to Winterfell, it’s just - not right. Robb already knows he wants to be a hedge knight when it’s time, but he also doesn’t doubt that he’d rather live in Winterfell than anywhere else, and no one should be this sad while living here.

He’ll see to make sure it doesn’t go on for much longer.

 

End.


End file.
